The Fireworks
by JoanyChan
Summary: They rose. They shone. They separated into the night sky and shimmered so subtly that he could not shake off the darkness that surrounded him. What once was and what could've been…all of it hollowed a corner of his heart, in such a way that the impossibility of turning back time to see her again followed him like a ceaseless shadow. Such was life. Such was love. HitsuHina. AU.
1. Chapter 1

_"We are all like fireworks. We climb, shine, and always go our separate ways and become further apart..."_

_~Hitsugaya Toushiro_

* * *

He leaps over the turnstile, his legs kicking out beneath him and landing on the cement flooring of the train station. The train doors are in his sight, perhaps a good 30 child-sized strides away.

But by looking over his shoulder to check on the security guard pursuing him, he crashes into someone in front of him.

Then it is all over. Never mind that his fall probably crushed all thirty boxes of Pocky in his backpack—another security guard roughly grabs hold of his school uniform shirt.

"Young man, where are you parents?" The guard asked, not amused by the fact that the boy has disrupted everyday routine at the station.

He doesn't answer. Instead, the boy's eyes lay blame on the man before him—the one that impeded his dash towards the train. With all his might, he glares at this man's blue-green eyes.

Hitsugaya Toushiro returns the boy's blazed expression with the regard of faint interest.

"Sorry about that, sir." The man in the uniform apologizes to the silvery white-haired traveler as the boy continues to squirm under his grasp.

"No, it's fine. I should be the one apologizing for my son's misbehavior. I guess he couldn't bear seeing his father off today."

Surprise extinguishes the fire in the schoolboy's brown eyes.

"Here. I'll pay for his ticket now." He takes out his wallet.

With the fare in his hands, the guard lets go of the child, feeling somewhat sheepish about his gruff treatment when facing the aloof smile of the blue-eyed man.

"Here." Toushiro hands the ticket to the boy after the guard returns to his post. He starts casually towards the train doors.

Snapping out of awe, the boy called out, "Hey! What'd you do that for?" He roughly pushes past the back-and-forth flow of the crowd to follow the stranger, despite that his mother has always told him to do the exact opposite. The train doors slide shut behind him.

_The train for Okayama is now departing. The train for Okayama is now departing. Please remain behind the yellow lines..._

"Oi! Aren't you going to answer me?" He finds the mysterious man sitting in an empty row of seats. "Why did you buy the ticket for me?"

Toushiro replies with a shrug, "You just looked like you really needed to get on the train. And I happened to have some extra money, so I helped. It's what people do sometimes in this world."

_Only strangers do that with adults, you're not supposed to do that with kids! _Is what he wants to yell at this man. But at the same time, this is the first time anyone has treated him like an adult. He decides to settle himself on the seat facing across the stranger.

"You know, helping people run away is the same as kidnapping." He says distrustfully, as if testing the man.

"But you aren't running away, are you?" Blue eyes stare at the changing scenery that increasingly blurs as the train gains speed.

The boy jumps out of his seat almost too soon. "No! I'm not!" He insists, "I'm not doing anything wrong! I'm just going home."

He expects a typical, chastising look adults give children but receives informal silence instead. Somehow, he feels frustrated that this guy doesn't show any interest. He sits, bangs his heels against the bottom of the seat, watches his sneakers dangle above the floor.

Finally, bored, he blurts, "Fine. I am running away. Wait! No. It's not really running away, but my mom doesn't know I'm here."

Given the guilty scowl on his face when the guard caught him, the school uniform he is wearing right now, and the backpack most likely filled with non-nutritious snacks, Toushiro has already guessed that his new traveling companion was a runaway. Not a very good one either. But nonetheless, he lets the child continue.

"She doesn't get it. I hate the countryside. The crickets never shut up and there's no air conditioning and the floors in my house are all creaky. And none of those country kids are even fun to race with in Mario Kart. That's why I have to go back my real home in Okinawa." The boy mutters.

"I grew up in the city. It was pretty fun."

Brown eyes brighten at this agreement. "I'm right, right? The countryside stinks."

"Well, I grew up in the countryside too." Toushiro keeps his eyes on the clear blue sky, "I moved a lot when I was younger. Narita, Kyoto, Tsukigata, Toyono, and you probably won't even know where the rest are. But yes, it was pretty hard to make new friends. And those crickets were really loud."

"My mom says that we only have to live there for a year. But then after that we're moving to Tokyo. She says it's important to her because she's writing for a bigger book company. And my dad is teaching at another school there too." He sulks, staring at his light-up shoes, "But nobody asked me what _I_ think is important."

The soft rumbling of the ground underneath them fills the silence as Toushiro muses at how similar the boy is to the child he used.

"I hate being ten. Everybody still treats me like I'm a nobody. Being ten stinks." He kicks at the back of the seat with his heel, steeped in sour frustration.

"Really? I think being ten was the best year of my life."

The boy looks up at this stranger—this man with blue eyes that seem to search for something farther than the horizon—in incredulity, "What? Why?"

Toushiro considers his past, as he has been for nearly half of his life, and then considers the image of the boy sitting across from him, half-reflected in his window. Finally, he turns to this child with earthy eyes and messy hair that is slightly too light to be considered black, replying with a trace of a nostalgic smile on his expression:

"I was ten when I met my first love."

* * *

"Sensei! Short—I mean, Toushiro knocked me over! He took the ball right from me!"

"Is that true, Toushiro-kun?"

"He wasn't going to score anyway."

And that was how he was dragged away from the field and the tattletales by the teacher, who scolded him before confining him in the library again. The door shut with a click that echoed throughout the room of dusty books and empty tables. Well fine, they were much better company than those crybabies outside who couldn't play soccer for their lives. He was doing that pudgy kid a favor. Heck, he would've made a goal and won had the kid not fallen over like some overstuffed, flimsy doll and started bawling.

It was just the same with that other boy last week who told on him for kicking his shin. And that girl who sniffed and called him a ball-hog on his first day.

It wasn't his fault that they all stunk.

They were all annoying too. While introducing himself in front the kanji: "Hitsugaya Toushiro" written in chalk, he had seen how they all whispered amongst each other and stared at him like some foreign object. And then after class, they all crowded him and asked him stuff like: "Oh, say _ in _ dialect?" "Ne, have you been to _ city before?" He hated it, being treated like some sort of interesting monkey. They were never going to be like the friends he had in his old home anyway, so why bother?

And then they started calling him a cold shorty.

If only they would just see how good of a soccer player he was.

He kicked the side of a wooden shelf, causing a book to fall off with a dull thump. Something—or perhaps someone—made sound on the other side of the shelf. Peering through the empty slot the thick novel once was, he found himself looking straight into a pair of brown eyes.

"Who's there?" Surprised, he jumped back and ran over to the other side of the tall shelf.

A girl in a blue-white sailor uniform stared curiously back at him, holding in her lap a large book perhaps just as heavy as she was. He recognized her tall frame and her black pigtails. His face—sparked with excitement for the possibility of adventure—fell flat in disappointment.

"Oh, it's just you."

She was always in the library, crisscross-applesauce on the floor with her nose in some giant book. They didn't even have any pictures. He didn't get her. On the first day, he stormed about the library in his dirtied uniform, with knees bruised and scratched from a fight (that idiot pushed him first. And he made him miss the ball too. Of course he was going to push him back). As he tried to track mud on every inch of carpet, he noticed the girl who staredwide-eyed in the corner. But the moment he turned his head in her direction, she held up the book as if it were some sort of shield. That only made him more frustrated and he continued his goal of ruining the flooring by stomping with heavier anger.

Sometimes he made giant walls out of the boring books and knocked them over. Other times he simply breathed hard on the windows and then drew pictures of monsters on the fog, imagining that their pointy teeth were real and could swallow his classmates who were playing outside without him.

But no matter what he did, all she did was read. She never even asked him for his name.

"Oi, you." He finally said that day, "What's your name?"

She lifted her head in shock. Looked around, and then pointed at herself in innocent confusion, "Me?"

As he suspected, this girl was weird. "Of course you. You're the only other person in here, right?"

"Oh...right. Sorry." She nervously looked down at the ground sheepishly.

"So, what is it? Your name?" He felt uncomfortable, unused to initiating introductions. When he moved here, people always came to him. Now he felt all stiff and awkward. He tried to compensate it by sounding more assertive and demanding, but this only made him feel worse.

"Hinamori Momo." She answered.

The clock seemed to tick louder and louder. He looked up at the ceiling, not sure how to continue. By the time he looked down, she was already looking at the tiny words again.

"Oi! Why don't you ask me the same thing?" He demanded.

Her head snapped up again. Was it him, or did her face seem a bit flushed? She stammered, "W-what do you mean?"

"You're supposed to ask me what my name is."

"I am?"

"Yeah." He felt annoyed. He was the new kid. He wasn't supposed to have to ask the questions. Why was this girl so weird?

"B-but why? I already know your name. Aren't you Hitsugaya Toushiro-kun?"

This took him aback. "How did you know that?" He started kicking the ground beneath his feet. This conversation was not going how he planned—that is, if he had a plan at all to begin with.

"I-I'm in your class. In the back." Her eyes darted to her black shoes.

"Oh." Was all he could say. Then, he blurted, "Why do you read alone in here all the time? Don't you have any friends?"

"Because I like books, and…" She abashedly smiled with her hands fidgeting behind her back, "the characters are like my friends."

"Hah?" He looked at her incredulously before realizing the meaning of her words. "No, I mean real people friends! Don't you have any?"

"I-I…I'm not good…" She mumbled with averting eyes, "at games…and nobody likes that…"

She was hard to hear, with her mumbling and soft voice. She read books without pictures and read them for fun. She was taller than he was by nearly a head. The girl in the pigtails seemed hardly like a fun person to play with, but the fact that she didn't have any friends either gave him the slightest bit of happiness—a kind that he couldn't really notice at that moment, but led him nonetheless to stiffly say:

"Not me. I don't really mind…"

He kicked the ground in pendulum swings. Summer-turning-autumn rain began a soft but steady drum roll outside, in concert with the trampling of classmates' mud-soaked feet running through the halls. Yet for him, the school building still felt vacant and silent with the exception of just the two of them, as he felt the gaze of her wide eyes.

* * *

**Okay, so the bad news is that I lied when I finished **_**Twelve **_**and said that I would be trying new manga/anime/characters to write about. In my defense, I am working on new projects…**

**So the good news is (or maybe not good, it's up for you guys to judge I guess…) that I'm writing HistuHina again.**

**This fic will mostly be slice-of-life-ish. It came to me as a combination of inspirations from my personal life, an OVA (which I will give credit to towards the end since doing so might give away the ending I have in store), a book, and most of all, Toushiro's quote from a manga chapter. From the way it's looking right now, I don't think it'll be a very long (around 10-12 chapters). **

**Anyways, I'm glad to be back! **


	2. Chapter 2

If there was anything he really liked, it was winning. And his teammates seemed to like it too. Underneath the hot sun, they huddled in a circle in their uniform blue T-shirts. Despite how uncomfortable it was to be so close to a group of kids with face sweaty from a day's worth of Sports Day, Toushiro didn't particularly mind. In fact, he couldn't suppress the small grin from his face as they included him in the plan for final event of the day.

"I think Toushiro should go last!"

"Yeah! The last part of the obstacle course is dribbling a ball, and Toushiro is good at soccer!"

It was the first time since half a year, when he had moved here, that he was surrounded by such a large group of classmates who smiled at him in approval.

"This is it! If we win this, then we'll beat the Red Team! So don't mess up guys!"

In the corner of his vision, he noticed a pair of shy brown eyes outside of the circle. Hinamori Momo looked at her shadow on the ground, her hands clasped uncomfortably behind her back. But all he could bring himself to do was to continuing nodding and agreeing with the victory plan.

"Wait, what about her?"

He felt somewhat relieved that some one else had finally noticed and brought it up.

"Who? Oh, Momo-chan…"

"We have to include everyone otherwise Sensei will disqualify us." A boy whined.

"I know. I know." Another scowled, in deep thought, "Fine. We can put her in dribbling with Toushiro. It'll be okay, he's fast enough."

They put their hands in the center and cheered before heading towards the field to their positions. The tall girl in the pigtails trailed behind him, her shoulders hunched apologetically. He knew how important being the fastest to dribble around the zig zag of cones was, yet as they stood together waiting for the sound of the gunshot, he felt almost embarrassed. Maybe even ashamed.

But this girl in front of him didn't even like sports anyway. She would understand why he had to do the course by himself. She would understand. Right?

What he didn't get was why, then, he couldn't look her in the face when he had to tell her about the team's plan. "When we start…I'm going to take the ball myself, okay? You can just run behind me…"

"Okay." She nodded quietly.

She agreed to it so quickly that he looked up in shock, confused as to whether or not she realized that she was actually being left out. But that was a mistake. Because then he became the one doing the realizing: she knew. She had known all along that this was going to happen. And she was letting it happen.

The shot rung in the air and the cheers of children started behind them. First the monkey bar race, then the hurdles, the basketball hoops…

He felt a hand behind his back push him, "Go, Toushiro!"

The soccer ball rolled before his feet as he started running. The cones he had to dribble his way around were tall and bright—hard to miss. Yet why was it that all he could see were downcast brown eyes?

He heard a thud and looked over his shoulder, finding her on the ground a few meters behind him, knees scraped and a face blotched with dirt.

"Go Toushiro! Go!"

There were green shirts and red shirts and yellow shirts, all catching up towards him. There were mouths open wide in smiles, saying his name. It was such a new sight, a new feeling.

Because the sight he had grown used to this past half year was a shy smile behind pages of a large book, greeting him every recess no matter how well he played a game; and the voice he was used to was small but comfortable, because it spoke of silly conversations like drinking milk to grow tall and favorite comic book heroes, making him feel as if it didn't matter where he came from or whether he was new to town...he knew that all he wanted was to be himself—even if it was just with one person.

So maybe the sun near the finish line was too bright for his eyes, but he pivoted and lightly passed the ball to the girl on the ground. He sprinted backwards while the other team members sped by him.

"Come on! Get up!" He held out his hand, "You have to dribble too!"

So slowly, she kicked the ball forward, encouraged by the hand he had offered, which she held onto as she stumbled along behind him.

By the time they ran through the already-broken finish banner in dead last, the two of them were laughing.

"I-I did it!" She gasped in amazement, between several breaths for air. It was probably the widest he had ever smile, and the brightest he had ever seen her eyes shine.

Maybe some things were worth more than winning after all.

* * *

When they enrolled in the same middle school and he had to wear a black _gakuran_ while she changed into new sailor _fuku_, things started to change. After a few weeks, he started seeing Hinamori less and less. He blamed it on the fact that he had joined the soccer team while she had joined the literature club—two groups that didn't mix very well in the social system of the school (which he had to get used to as well).

In one sense, he didn't mind it; eating lunch with his new soccer teammates was an experience he never had with her in elementary school. Boisterous pranks, some jostling, video game talk, older students' complaints about girlfriends started to get him grinning in another way. One time he showed the guys how far he could spit his watermelon seeds—it was a record high.

Which got him wishing that Hinamori were there to see it. She was, after all, the one who joined him every summer when his grandmother cut open the first melon from the garden, since they started hanging out two years ago.

Neither of them ever remembered putting a label on their companionship—he had simply stopped playing games outside less and less until somewhere along the way it became common for him to sit down next on the library carpet with her, talking while she held a book or maybe listening to her read when the cover seemed interesting. As a result, they knew little things about each other, like how she hated dried plums in her _bento _and he forced himself to drink milk.

Momo had always found Toushiro-kun confusing in a sense. She never understood why he had stopped playing soccer in elementary school and settled for sitting in the library instead, which was probably much more boring in comparison for him. He had never been much of a reader, even though he was actually very smart—much smarter than she was. And he was athletic. And outspoken.

She never understood why he talked to her so much.

But she didn't dare to question him because she liked hearing his boyish voice complaining about having vegetables for dinner and teasing her for her pigtails as they walked home.

At the same time, as she headed towards the library in the weekend morning in the middle of her first middle school year to return a book, she was happy that Toushiro-kun was making new friends with boys like himself. Once again, it was confusing. She wanted him to be happy. But she didn't at the same time. Because whenever she walked home alone, she found herself wishing for his voice instead of wishing him the best in his afterschool soccer practices.

But those other boys were his friends, and she was—

"Ah, Momo-chan."

She looked up from her shadow in stark contrast against the sun-lit pavement, "Oh! G-good morning, Oba-san."

She politely bowed to the small, elderly lady at the front gate of a traditional countryside home.

"Are going to the library?"

"Yes."

"What a studious girl." The woman pleasantly smiled while Momo shyly blushed at the compliment, "Shiro is such an irresponsible boy. He forgot his lunch when he left for morning practice. Could you do me a favor and give it to him?

She nodded, "Okay."

"Thank you, Momo-chan. I'm very grateful for you taking care of Shiro so much all the time."

Heat flushed her cheeks as she shook her head, "N-not at all. It's not a big deal. The s-soccer field is on the way."

"It's not just today. You've helped him with so much."

Momo looked up curiously at the elderly woman.

"Because of my illness, Shiro has had to move a lot for my hospital transfers. He's a very nice boy, but he had such a hard time making friends. It worried me so much. He tried running away several times. His parents had to go to the schools because of disciplinary issues. But that stopped when he moved here. Momo-chan, I think you've helped him with that. He smiles much more now."

It made her really happy to know that she had helped Toushiro-kun make friends. Which was why, as she walked nearer to the soccer field, she felt nervous holding his lunch in her hand. And why, when she finally arrived and saw all those other boys laughing amongst themselves, passing the ball agilely in a way she never could, she decided to place _bento_ on the bench, leaving quietly before anyone could see her.

The boxed lunch happened to have a _hakutou _peach jelly bun for dessert, which made Toushiro remember Hinamori when he bit into it after the scrimmage. In fact, he actually split the bun in half out of habit before he realized that there was no one there to share with in the first place.

He was admittedly annoyed. And confused. The latter because there was only one person he could think of who brought the lunch. His parents worked all day and were too busy to actually see him do anything (unless the principal called them; but that was another story). His _Oba-san _was not well enough to leave too far from the house.

That left Hinamori, who his _Oba-san _took a liking to and happened to live in the same neighborhood. He wanted to say that the conclusion didn't make sense either—since he wanted to think that Hinamori would've stayed to at least say hi or something. Or maybe even watch his scrimmage.

But nowadays, he hardly saw her. And maybe it was just him, but it almost seemed as if her eyes darted away from his whenever he was sure she noticed him. Her literature club ended the same time as his practice too, so it seemed odd how she always seemed to either leave abnormally early or strangely late.

He didn't really know how to ask her about it. So he left it alone. But he didn't get it.

"Oi, Hitsugaya! Wanna come over my place for some video games?"

He packed up his shin guards and slung his athletic bag over his back, about to agree when he noticed a tall girl walking her bicycle up the hill towards the same intersection he was at.

"I have to do something." He spontaneously decided.

His teammates eventually turned the corner and out of view as he waited for the girl.

"Oi. Thanks."

She looked up from slouched shoulders and had that look on her face—the back-of-the-classroom, quiet demeanor kind of look that made her seem as if she was genuinely surprised to be noticed. He never understood why she had such wide-brown eyes whenever she heard her name—it wasn't like she was invisible. He also didn't understand why it felt as if there was a distance larger than the physical four meters between them—as if she were constantly stepping back, farther and farther from him.

"For the _bento_." He clarified. "It was you, right?"

"Your welcome." She replied in her typical soft voice.

While she did not stammer as much with him anymore, she still maintained a wispy volume that most people other than him had to strain to hear. It frustrated him a bit, to imagine that people probably passed her off as a boring quiet person when he knew that she was actually very curious and kind of a dramatic worrier.

Such as when she noticed the bandage around his leg.

"Your ankle! Are you hurt?"

"It's just a small sprain—

"That's no good! You shouldn't be walking on it!" She insisted, unable to help but worry about his wellbeing, "Get on!"

He stared at the back seat of her bike. "Oi…Hinamori, it's fine." Plus, it was kind of insulting—like, shoving the fact that she was still a head taller than him in his face.

"No it's not! What if it's actually really bad?"

Unable to avoid her large, brown eyes, he sighed and got on.

He felt a sudden jolt when she stopped pedaling and slammed her feet to the ground. He looked over her shoulder and realized what frightened her to a halt.

"Hey, isn't that Hitsugaya?!" One of his sempai on the soccer team pointed out.

"Hey Hitsugaya, what's up? Can't ride a bike yourself?"

"Is _she _your girlfriend, kid? _Her_?"

Before he could react to anything, Hinamori threw herself off the bicycle and dashed off. It was perhaps the fastest he had ever seen her run. He had to glance up at the cloudless sky to figure out that the damp droplet he felt wasn't rain, but tears.

"Shut up you assholes!" He yelled and ran off in her direction before he could hear any more of their mockery.

He found her at stairs at the back of the library building, hugging her knees as she sniffled. Judging by the scrapes on her elbows and legs, he could tell that she had fallen a few times on her way here. He stood in front of her.

"Oi."

She noticed his shadow, once again his shadow alone just because of her and all the tears came spilling out again, maybe even harder than before.

"S-s-sorry."

"I'm sorry."

"Hah?" He looked at her, incredulous. "For what?"

"I-I shouldn't have bothered you." She hiccupped, "If, if I h-hadn't made y-you be with me, y-you would've been able to be happy with your friends. It's all my fault." She cried even more at the last sentence; no matter how much she tried rubbing the tears away, they wouldn't stop flowing from her eyes, "It's all my fault that you won't make any friends.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry—

"Oi…Hinamori," He finally said, "Are you _dumb_?"

She looked up, her shocked eyes brimmed with tears.

"Why do you always think that everything is your fault?!

"B-because…" She whimpered, "I-I'm no good…I can't be like Toushiro-kun."

It actually took this moment for him to realize that he had actually been annoyed for a really long time. And once he started, he couldn't stop.

"Well then, that's good right?! Because you're tall and I'm actually really jealous of you for that! So stop slouching your shoulders so much because being tall is a good thing and there are people who want to be tall and it's not fair for them if you keep hiding all the time!"

"I'm sorry." She whispered, somewhat scared to see Toushiro-kun so mad.

"And stop being so quiet! Because it's really bothersome, you know! You think you're helping but you're not. Nobody ever knows what you're thinking and they never get to know you and you're all alone and that's just really, really bothersome!"

"I'm sorry."

"And stop apologizing for everything!"

"I'm so—

She stopped herself, unsure of what else to say if she couldn't apologize.

He uncurled his fists. After cooling off from his tirade, he felt somewhat embarrassed and at loss for words.

"Ne, Toushiro-kun." She finally said as she hugged her knees tight, this time in quiet happiness. "Thank you."

Why are you thanking me?" He huffed indignantly and looked away, "We're friends, aren't we?"

"Yeah…friends." She echoed.

He snuck a peek at her and found himself trapped in her smile. It was no use; all the anger left in him was dispelled in an instant when he saw that overjoyed, tear-stained expression. He couldn't help but return it with a small grin.

* * *

**I have done a bit more research to fit the setting, so you'll see more Japanese words thrown in here and there. **

**The **_**gakuran**_** is the black uniform you'll find a lot of school guys in anime wear. And I'm guessing you all don't need an explanation for the sailor **_**fuku**_**.**

_**Hakutou**_**jelly is a really yummy peach-tasting sweet that they put in buns, which are made to look like peaches as well. **

**Anyways, thanks for reading! Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

Valentine's Day was a completely different holiday in middle school. It had been easier in elementary school, where everybody had candy to share with everyone else—that way, a kid was guaranteed to have a backpack full of sweets by the end of the day. But that kind of safety net was gone in middle school. Now, only girls made the chocolates. And while one guy could get enough candy to fill two bags, another could get nothing at all. Either scenario was bothersome.

Which was why he was glad he would never get entangled with any of that kind of stuff. Until Hinamori answered the door with a pink apron around her waist on February 13th.

"Toushiro-kun!" Surprised, she also seemed very much aware of her kitchen attire—specifically the brown stain on her fabric that she clutched to hide, "What are you doing here?"

"Winter melons." He held out the heavy bag of vegetables, "From my _Oba-san_."

"Tell her I said thank you!"

He waited; usually when he ran errands for his _Oba-san_, she would invite him inside and offer him tea (if it was summer) or cocoa (if it was winter, as it was now).

"What are you making?" He sniffed, catching the smell of something sweet.

"Um, cake!" She quickly blocked his view of the house interior, "It's, it's my _oka-san_'s birthday! So um…I'm actually sort of busy today…"

Over the course of the last year, he had noticed Hinamori gradually lose her stutter and her poor posture. But if there was something he was sure she could never grow out of, it was her ineptitude at lying. Her brown eyes obviously avoided his blue eyes while her fingers twiddled behind her back.

He sighed. "Oi. Your chocolate's burning."

"Really? Oh no!" She turned frantically around, "Wait!" She leaned out the door, calling out in insistence as he walked away, "It's not chocolate!"

"Yeah, yeah. Sure." He replied with a teasing grin.

Valentine's day was so troublesome, but he guess he didn't mind it that much.

That was until he found himself at the soccer field bench the next afternoon during lunch break, glaring up at the library window, where he watched Hinamori hold out a small bag knotted with a red bow to another classmate.

"What's up, Hitsugaya?" One of his soccer teammates asked, indulging himself in a box of chocolates.

"Nothing." He scowled in response.

"That's a complete lie. Something's wrong."

"What's your proof?"

"Your face. You're frowning."

"My face is always like this."

"Oh I know," Another grinned deviously, "It's 'cuz Hitsugaya has gotten exactly zero chocolates so far."

It didn't bother him. Really. She was just giving all her literature club members some chocolates. In fact, she had warmed up to them quite well, spending much of her free time during school hours in energetic conversation at their desks. He had stopped visiting the library since he realized that he would no longer find her hiding in the furthest corner with a book blocking her face. Instead, she would be at a table with a smile that radiated her personality-one she used to be comfortable wearing only with him—circled by a group of new friends.

"What are you looking at anyway?"

Before he could turn away, his friend had already caught on to his line of sight. He grinned, "Ah, it's Hinamori-chan isn't it?"

"No!" He snorted, hoping to have fooled them. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, hey, she's holding hands with Yamada now—

"What!?" He looked back and saw the two still casually talking a distance apart.

"Just kidding~"

"You bastards." He glowered as they headed back towards their classrooms, passing by Hinamori and her friend in the hall.

Yamada Hanatarou. A boy their age who received Hinamori's goodie bag. He was a new friend of hers, just like all the other friends from her literature club that he had seen her give _giri_-chocolates to.

But still. Wasn't she extremely shy just a few months ago?

"Whatever." He said out loud to his friends, but admittedly to himself as well, "I don't even want any chocolate from anyone. It's annoying and sweets are gross."

Yet as they walked home down the country road flanked by a field of melting snow under the evening purple sky, it was as if there was a magnet pulling his eyes back to her school bag over and over again, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. It was a good thing that she seemed oblivious to everything.

At the same time, it ticked him off. He thought it would be common sense to see something wrong with the picture. She had only known Yamada for a short period time...compared to the three—almost four—years they had been friends. Yamada was such a stuttery, awkward guy too.

"Ne, Toushiro-kun?"

"What?" He curtly cut her off, immediately regretting it once he saw her eyes flicker with hesitancy.

It shouldn't have bothered him. But it did, which jammed him in a position of self-irritation and, consequentially, an endless cycle of annoyance and confusion. He didn't understand why her eyes seemed that way towards him these days—lowered, wavering like some uneasy surface of a lake. Why could she smile and laugh with Yamada so easily now, but not him?

"Are you…um…are you..."

And now this too—the stuttering he had thought only snuck into her voice with strangers.

"If you have something to say, just say it." He snapped. And then cursed himself again for being caught up in his tangled thoughts.

"Are you mad at me?" She shut her eyes and asked loudly in a rushed breath.

"No."

"But, you haven't been talking a lot—

"I'm just tired. You should be too, since you spent all last night making stuff for your new friends."

He didn't really mean to sound as harsh as he did. In fact, his own words left such a bitter taste on his tongue that he didn't know how to recover in front of her. So he quickened his pace in a storm, hoping to eventually find his cool alone.

"Toushiro-kun, wait—

He heard a thud and instinctively turned, finding her on the ground, having slipped under a patch of ice after trying to chase after him. In her awkward w-sit, with some potential injury (knowing how clumsy she was), he couldn't stay mad at her. He walked back with a sigh, about to offer his hand until he noticed a white box half out of her open bag.

"W-wait, don't! It's, it's…"

She trailed off as he stared at the box tied neatly with a red ribbon. More specifically, he looked at the tag with his name on it.

"They're no good." She rambled in a quiet stutter, "I…I tried all night to get them right and had every one else try them first to make sure they were okay. But, but then I heard you say that you don't like sweets…and Yamada-kun said that I put too much sugar—

"I like them."

"Huh?" She looked up and found him with a half-bitten chocolate in one hand.

"I like them."

And it was true. He chewed with wide, turquoise eyes from surprise. Even though they were incredibly sweet, the candies were—curiously enough—the best things he remembered eating. After one swallowing bite, winter butterflies burst in his stomach—suddenly the pinkish flush of embarrassment on her cheeks and her shimmery-brown eyes gave him the same feeling he felt whenever he drank too much cocoa at once. But that didn't really bother him at all.

He wondered why all this time he had made such a big deal over a trivial box of chocolates.

* * *

The _Tanabata _festival poster seemed to mock him, its pictures of lantern-lit crowds glaring brightly at him as the sunlight struck the glossy surface in a particular angle. His soccer friends were right—there were a lot of couples in the photographs; he just never noticed it back then, when he was practically inches shorter and could only determine genders based not on faces, but yukata patterns. Back then, he was too concerned with winning all the games at the stalls and eating _ringo ame*_

But now he was in his last year of middle school, when—apparently—it was common tradition for guys to ask girls to the festival.

He scowled. It wasn't like he really wanted to, but…

"Oi, Yamada."

"Huh? Hai! Hitsugaya-kun, ah…um, what's up?" The black haired boy nervously smiled in greeting.

"Help me out." He said, still half-facing the school bulletin board.

"Okay!" He quickly agreed. Toushiro had a hunch that the kid was somewhat intimidated by him. "Uhm…with what?"

Just considering the thought of saying it out loud brought an annoying heat at the back of his neck. He really didn't want to share his idea with anyone at all—particularly Yamada. But after tossing and turning on his bed all last night, he was determined to sacrifice some of his pride.

"Asking Hinamori to the festival."

It wasn't like he really wanted to, but when he heard all the other guys in the locker room sharing their extravagant (ridiculous) ways of inviting their female classmates, it got him wondering if anyone had his childhood friend in mind. Like Yamada Hanatarou.

That was where his plan came into play. Asking Yamada to help him out would discourage the meek guy from confronting Hinamori.

"Uhm…the, uhm…the flower shop is the other way." Yamada nervously offered as he trailed behind Toushiro afterschool.

He ignored the question; everyone got flowers, they were so common that they seemed lame. It wasn't like he was trying really hard to do something out-of-the-box or innovative. He just wanted to ask her in a way that was personal, a way that she would appreciate and remember—because, after all, they _were _friends…

So he walked into a book store and stood in front of one of the bookshelves for a while, glaring at the spines while lost in his own uncomfortable thoughts.

"Uh…Hitsugaya-kun?"

Finally, he demanded, "What's a book that she would read?"

"Huh? A book?"

He forced himself to continue the conversation. If it was hard to carry out his plan without feeling some sort of incredibly stifling heat in his face in the first place, sharing his plan with another person made it even worse. The fact that he had to ask Yamada about Hinamori's book tastes did not improve his mood either.

"Yes. A book. Have your club read a book before the festival. Make sure she gets the copy I buy here because I'm putting a message in it asking her to go with me." He impatiently said.

"Ah! That's…actually a really good idea!" Yamada exclaimed with large eyes.

"Well, yeah." He looked away from the boy's impressed expression, indignant, "So? What book?"

"Well…uhm…she likes happy endings…how about this one? I don't think she's read it yet, but she'll probably really like it!" He held up a novel with thin, metallic font: _The Princess Bride_.

Unlike Hinamori, he didn't possess a mental library catalogue—he had no clue what the book was about. The only thing he noticed was the section under which the book was shelved. The "Romance" label, in its bold white font against black, was like some sort of open challenge.

Noticing the intense, stormy blue-eyed glare from his classmate, Yamada shirked back, "…No good?" He flinched, expecting Toushiro to yell at him at any minute.

"No. It's fine." He snatched the book from Yamada's hands. "I'll buy it."

At the cash register, he placed a hand in front of his mouth and breathed, wondering if his face was as hot as his breath. He made sure to avoid anyone's eyes just in case the red he felt really was showing.

He had to admit, he felt immensely proud for managing to buy the book on his own (kind of) and for writing a message inside the back cover of the book.

But that feeling diminished completely a day before the festival, as Hinamori still continued to act as if nothing had happened.

"Is something the matter, Toushiro-kun?" She asked one day at his desk, after the bell marking the end of the school day rung.

"Did you…" He cleared his throat and looked away from her genuinely curious eyes, unsure of how to handle the situation.

"Toushiro-kun?" She tilted her head.

"Did you finish your book?" He finally said.

"Huh?" She looked at him quizzically, "Oh! You mean my literature club book? Yes, I did!" She smiled and took the copy out of her bag, "That's odd, you never ask me about books. Did you want to read it?—

His knees hit the table with a crash, bringing attention from the few students still lingering in the classroom upon himself. He stood up quickly and grabbed the book from her hands.

"Toushiro-kun, that's not the kind of book that makes sense if you just read the ending." She giggled.

Flipping to the back cover, he confirmed his suspicions. Something in his stomach dropped when he saw the prominently blank page.

"Is this the book you first got?"

"What do you mean?" She asked, confused by his urgent tone.

"When your club decided on the book. Is this the copy you were given?" He impatiently asked.

"Hmm," She placed a finger to her lip and thought for a moment, "Oh, no. I lent Ise-san my first one because she forgot hers one day. This one is from the public library—Ne, where are you going?..."

Her voice dissipated as he stormed out of the room and down the hall. As expected, Yamada was at his locker. Which was convenient, since the locker area was empty at the moment.

"Oh hi, Hitsugaya-kun—Ack!"

He grabbed the slim boy by the shirt and yanked, "You idiot!"

"W-what? What's wrong?" Yamada flinched, frightened by the irregular flush in his classmate's face.

Half-embarrassed, half-annoyed, Toushiro angrily said, "What's wrong?! How did Hinamori end up with another copy of the book?!"

"S-s-she did?" He squeaked. "W-who has the real one?"

After glaring at his timid grey-blue eyes, Toushiro realized that Yamada wouldn't have the guts to underhandedly oppose him in the first place.

"Some girl named Ise." He let the kid go, in defeat. "Can't you get it back or something?"

"Ah…um…"

He glared, "What now?"

"The thing is…Ise-san is on a vacation right now…"

"Goddammit!" Ignoring Yamada's intimidated expression, he slammed a fist against a locker and pressed his head on the metal door in frustration.

Hours spent trying to decipher Yamada's stuttering, $14 lost that he could've saved up for a new Xbox controller, a waste bin overflowing in his room with 35 invitation drafts at 2 AM and it all came down to this.

He skipped soccer practice to brood underneath a tree, too busy in his thoughts to notice the foliage of multicolored green dancing across his silvery hair. First he wanted to blame Yamada for everything. Then that stranger Ise he didn't even know. But eventually he was left with no one else to be irritated at but himself.

It probably wasn't a good plan to begin with.

Maybe he wouldn't go to the festival after all. He didn't really care for it all that much.

Eventually, a summer tree leaf fell on top of his nose, causing him blow it off and look up. The window on the third floor above him happened to the library's. He caught a glimpse of the peach-shaped keychain he had won three years ago at the very same festival. He remembered spending hours trying to shoot one of the larger prizes off the wall, only to accidentally hit a small trinket that he gave to Hinamori because she seemed so excited about it.

Suddenly he just felt like _doing _something.

Leaves trembled and fell as he climbed up the branches. All thoughts left his mind as he pulled himself higher, ignoring the scratches on his legs from stray twigs. Before he knew it, he was on the highest branch possible and still a few feet short of the window sill. Spontaneously, he searched his pockets for something easy to throw.

"Oi!" He called out as his coins hit the glass with a sharp ping.

The window lifted.

"Toushiro-kun?"

"Do—

All the inexplicable determination vanished the moment that pair of spring brown eyes met his blue ones. The simple, casual, everyday look in her eyes caught him off guard. Never in his memory did he remember seeing such a pure color of brown.

He stopped, frozen in mid-sentence, some piece of ice lodged in his throat. He didn't know what he was doing. It was just one question. It wasn't worth trying this hard for.

But the scent of citrus-grass was filling him a sort of electricity. There was this iridescent circlet of sunlight glare warming on his face. And the black braids of the girl in front of that crown of light were cascading out the window, a fairy tale thread with a promise to someplace higher while she leaned out the window.

His lips moved.

"Do you want to go to the festival with me?"

"What?" She tilted her head and put a hand to an ear, unable to hear his voice clearly.

He could hear his soccer team running closer around the corner, feel more fingers pointing at him, more onlooking eyes from the ground.

But winter was long gone and he was closer to the sun—all the hesitation had melted, leaving nothing but a determined light in his eyes. He braced himself. With a deep breath, he looked up at her and yelled in a voice as clear as the cloudless sky:

"Do you want to go to the festival with me?!"

Now it was her turn to be taken aback. Pink blossomed across her cheeks as her hands flew to her mouth in surprise. Slowly, her lips formed a tiny smile when she shyly replied:

"Yes."

The branch underneath him snapped before he could even shift his body in any kind of victorious cheer.

"Toushiro-kun! Are you okay?"

He landed on the grass, twigs tangled in his hair, knees dirt-scraped. It probably would've hurt a lot if the feeling of feathers hadn't lingered inside of him to cushion the fall. Surprising even himself, he responded to her worry with a large grin.

She burst into giggles. Their laughter bubbled and floated into the air like multicolored balloons. Together, with the faint warmth of roses still left on faces and the shower of lady-bug dotted leaves that connected them, they faced each other with the sense of changing breezes.

* * *

**Actually, it's uncanny; about a week after I finished the first draft of this chapter, I was asked to prom by a guy friend—he gave me a copy of **_**Pride and Prejudice**_** (one of my favorites) and inside was a bookmark asking me to prom. I must be clairvoyant in some weird sense.**

**Anyways…**

_**Giri-chocolate **_**is the kind of chocolate women give to their male friends on Valentines Day. They are more of a friendship gift, as opposed to **_**honmei chocolate**_**, which is given to a lover. **

_**Tanabata **_**is a Japanese festival that occurs on August 7****th**** of the lunar calendar. Many of you might now this from anime already, but a common tradition is hanging wishes on a tree.**

_**Ringo Ame **_**are candy apples **

**As always, I love reviews and anything that shows your guys' support! But, of course, I'm really grateful for having you wonderful readers in the first place!**


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm leaving." He called out, putting his sneakers on at the front of the door.

His grandmother appeared by the foyer of their traditional house, "Already?" She looked out the window, "It's still bright out."

"I'm meeting a friend." He looked over his shoulder and responded.

"Ah, Momo-chan?"

"No. Someone else." He quickly corrected, somewhat indignant as he turned back to tie his laces and muttered, "Why does everyone always assume it's just her, anyway?"

She smiled at her grandson's reaction, chuckling at the nostalgic familiarity of his young embarrassment.

"Have a safe trip."

It was true though—he wasn't seeing Hinamori. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure who he was meeting as he biked through the August heat waves towards the town shrine. As he looked around the street that was in the process of being decorated in preparation for the night's event, he tried searching for a fortune telling advertisement among all the stands being set up. She said that her family would be running a tarot shop when she somehow managed to get a hold of his telephone number and called him the other day.

That is, "she" being Ise Nanao.

Although they were in their last year of middle school, he still could not pin a face on Ise's name. But the black-haired girl carrying stack of old books near the bamboo trees seemed his age.

"Hello." She looked up from her glasses as she knelt down to set the stack on the ground, "Hitsugaya-kun, right?"

"Yeah. Um, why did you call me out?" He stiffly asked. Mature, sophisticated, and at the top of their class, Nanao Ise was the kind of girl he rarely interacted with.

"This," She held up a small novel in her hand, "is yours right?"

All he could do was blink with the all-too familiar book in her hands. He checked the back of the cover and saw the meticulous handwriting he spent hours trying to perfect. Flustered, he hurriedly asked, "Y-you—

"It was quite an endearing letter." She answered his unfinished question, smiling with a shadow of amusement over her calm expression.

He glared at her periwinkle eyes before recomposing himself and looking away in a grumble, "Whatever. It wasn't much. I only spent a few minutes writing it," He lied, "Plus, it's too late anyway."

This only caused her to smile even more, as if she could see through him, "That's unfortunate. I guess I should apologize since I'm the one who was the impediment. But I think you should give the book to her anyway."

"Why? She already read it." He felt like being argumentative, simply because he was annoyed at the fact that she had read the message and then called him out in the unbearable humidity just to make him feel even more uncomfortably warm.

"Whether she has read the book itself or not is trivial. It's the message that she should read."

"I already asked her."

She didn't seem surprised, which further bothered him. Instead, her lips maintained their sliver of fascination, "Really? How?"

"I just—why the hell are you so interested anyway?"

"Reading Austen and Bronte romances only keep me entertained for so long."

"Hah?" He looked at her, incredulous. "What?"

"I'm just trying to help you, Hitsugaya-kun."

"With what?"

She blinked, as if it were obvious, "With Hinamori-chan, of course."

"W-what?!" He sputtered, genuinely caught off guard. He wondered how the air around his face could feel as if it were being set ablaze despite the fact that the sun was lower in the sky. "Why would I need help with her?"

He felt the need to reaffirm himself, "She's just my friend. I've known her for almost four years. I don't need help or whatever you're talking about."

"I think you know precisely what I'm talking about. Otherwise, why would you feel the need to justify that she is 'just a friend' to me?" She pointed out with an all-knowing smile.

He was starting to get sick of it—the look on her face that made it seem like he were some open book under clear glass, like she could read something that he couldn't. Yet all he could do was stammer senselessly in a way that sparked irritation with himself, "W-what the _hell _is that supposed to mean?! I said it just because…" He trailed off before defensively snapping, "Does that even matter anyway?"

"You really don't know, do you?"

"Know _what?_ What is there to know?" Impatient, he casually tossed the book back into her arms and started to walk away, "Thanks, but no thanks. I don't need this book anymore."

"It's not for Hinamori-chan." She firmly extended her arms to place the book back into his possession. "It's for you. Try reading your own message a little more honestly—I think you'll find some answers there."

Because there was no other way to get rid of her cryptic, stubborn smile, he decided to keep the book, too uncomfortably warm to explain the grasshopper-leaping inside his chest.

* * *

He really regretted spending all that time trying to pick out a T-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts instead of having an extra ice cream before he left, especially by the time he met up with Hinamori in front of the shrine gate. The collar around his neck felt strangely stiff and his palms uncomfortably damp—probably because of the long walk in the sweltering evening.

It had nothing to do with Hinamori's yukata. He didn't get why she had to wear one in the first place. The pink garment patterned with white blossoms seemed as delicate as her hair curled and tied into a swept bun seemed ornate. Not that he minded, at the same time. Something about her in that outfit was like a tiny candlelight, turning the blue in his eyes a few shades brighter.

"Hey," was all he could bring himself to say.

"Hi." Her eyes met his and then fluttered to the ground.

He wondered if it was the lanterns that made her cheeks seem flushed. In fact, as they walked down the cobblestone street decorated by dancing shadows of children running with bags of goldfish and pinwheels in their hands, he had a lot of time to wonder, since neither of them could find words to start a conversation. He wasn't typically an introspective person, but the uneasy quiet between them got him thinking.

How had he forgotten how much time was socially acceptable to look at another person? When they came here last year, he didn't remember having to look at the night sky so much in paranoia for staring at someone too long. They passed by the same shaved ice stand that his elementary school self used to drag her to so that he could overstuff himself with green _kakigori _while complaining about the heat and then his brain freeze. Only this time, he opted out of his favorite festival treat so because he didn't want her to be bored. And while they had always walked side by side, he never recalled being so close that the backs of their hands could brush across each other once and a while.

Everything around him was the same. At the same time, everything was different.

"_Try reading your own message a little more honestly."_

"Go away." His forceful attempt to get rid of the voice in his head escaped his lips.

"Huh?" She looked up, alarmed, "Is something wrong, Toushiro-kun? If you don't like wish-making, we don't have to."

The anxious bell tone in her voice snapped him from his musty trance; he realized that her brown eyes were being illuminated into sepia from the lanterns of the _tanzaku _stall.

"No." He quickly replied, "It's nothing…uhm," He noticed her loosen the drawstrings of her _kinchaku _purse. "I-I can pay."

"Are you sure? It's okay you know, you don't have to." She tilted her head as she held two of the colorful papers strips in her hand, about to pay the man herself out of habit.

Quite frankly, he wasn't sure about anything—not even himself. Actually, it was himself that he was the most confused about. And it was frustrating the hell out of him. He could not understand what prompted him to offer to pay for Hinamori—all these years, it had been him who shamelessly nagged her for a few spare coins, since he had always forgot to bring enough money.

"Yeah." He quickly scavenged his pockets and shoved the coins on the table.

The back of his finger brushed across her thumb and the mere contact with her skin sent a jolt to his chest; he forgot to breathe. For a second—most likely even much less than that—everything seemed frozen in time.

The ice broke when both of them simultaneously yanked their hands back.

"S-sorry!" She stuttered an apology.

"Yeah." He muttered while staring at his palm, half wanting to reach out for her again, half wanting to run away in fear.

He didn't have time to do either. At that moment, the entire street lost electricity and their surroundings became pitch black. The wail of frightened children, the panicked shifting of adults trying to call out for their companions…he was somewhere in between the sea of noises, blind in an ocean of strangers. He imagined the entire expanse of his future like this: drifting debris constantly struggling for the surface, cast among waves without ever reaching shore. The overwhelming thought of it left stole his voice.

Then he found her hand.

It was just the small hand of a 13-year-old girl—a palm, five fingers interlaced around his. Yet that hand saved him from the shadow-thoughts of solitude and the unknown future, saved him from drowning. While he held that hand, running far away from the crowds and into the woods on impulse, it felt as if he were flying in a sky so cloudlessly blue that he could see his destination. Of course, he couldn't make out the exact details of the place—but he knew it existed, and that was all that mattered. With her touch, he knew that there was a wonderful place in the world, one that was for him.

"Look, Toushiro-kun," The slapping of her _geta _against the soles of her feet stopped as she stopped to catch her breath, "the fireworks are starting."

He turned just as the first one burst in the black sky. The first sight he saw was the violet blossom in her eyes, and then the faded color of tiny comets glow on her cheeks. That was when he decided that he probably knew what Ise Nanao had been talking about; it wasn't the festival that had changed; it was him.

"Aren't they pretty?!" She excitedly looked back at him after admiring the iridescence.

He remembered to look at the sky, "Y-yeah."

The fireworks seemed to pop and echo with greater resonance as they watched in silence.

"Ne, Toushiro-kun," Hinamori asked, "do you know the story behind Tanabata?"

"Uhm, sort of. I think _Oba-san _told me once that it was about two stars or something."

"You see, there were these two stars. One was a princess of the sky named Orihime and the other was a cow herder star named Hikoboshi. Orihime was a really talented weaver. But she spent a lot of time on weaving, so she couldn't meet anyone and fall in love. This made her very sad. Then her father, the Sky King, introduced her to Hikoboshi and the two fell so much in love that they neglected their duties. This made the Sky King very angry and he decided to separate them. Now, they are only allowed to meet once every year, the seventh day of the seventh month."

"Wow, that sucks." He finally said.

"I think it's sad, isn't it?" She continued to watch the shower of bright lights. "If I were one of those stars right now, I'd feel still feel sad today. Because wouldn't it be scary? One day doesn't seem like enough to erase all the change that could happen the rest of the year. What if one day, one of them changes so much that they can't love each other the same way anymore?"

He scratched his head uncomfortably, sensing that he was missing something in her thoughtful words—he had never been any good at those kinds of conversations. "Yeah."

"Oh!" She realized aloud, "I know what my wish is now."

After she finished happily writing, she looked over at the blank strip of paper in his hands, "Ah! You can't think of a wish?"

"I can," He scowled, "Just give me a minute."

He once wished for a new soccer ball—that was when he was ten. Last year, he wished to grow taller. In a way, he still wanted a lot of things. The air conditioner in his house was broken—it would be nice to get a new one since he hated hot weather. Maybe he could wish to do well in his studies. But tonight, he wanted to hope on something larger, something that he couldn't exactly put into words.

"Hmm…what are you going into when we go to high school, Toushiro-kun? Science or humanities?"

Despite the fact that high school was in the near future, he had not given that any thought. He knew classmates who had pinpoint goals that they were aiming for—exact colleges, exact majors, exact jobs; clear cut paths. But he hardly thought ahead.

"Humanities, I guess."

"Really?! What do you want to be?"

He thought about it, and decided to confess, "Maybe a detective or federal agent or something." It was just an idea—but it was the only idea that he had ever considered.

He noticed her giggle.

"What's so funny?"

"It just seems so like Toushiro-kun," she smiled, "trying to save people all the time. I think you'll do a great job as one."

"What about you, then?"

"Hmm, me?" She clasped her hands behind her back and considered the colors in the sky, "I'm going into humanities too next year. I really want to be a writer." She swung around and smiled, "I want to write a ton of books and then own a pastry shop when I grow old. Oh! And you can come visit me after working hard catching bad guys everyday to eat free cake!"

Seeing her with that believing expression just for him got him wondering. He thought he could see something shining in her eyes—a glimmering hope sparked by a light much farther away than the fireworks above the sky.

He decided on what his wish would be.

"We should write our wishes down right now and hang them on one of the bamboos here!" She suggested, "It'll be like our own tree."

They found a nearby bamboo tree and searched for a spot to hang their wishes. Coincidentally, they found the same branch. He realized how close her body was as she tied her paper.

"Ne, Toushiro-kun, you've gotten taller haven't you?"

He turned his head and found himself staring at her brown eyes.

"You're as tall as I am now." She noted quietly.

She was right. Whereas just last year he had to shift his irises upward to talk to Hinamori, tonight he was exactly eyelevel with her. Now that he thought about it, Hinamori was no longer considered the tallest in the grade—several boys in the class had outgrown her. Nobody called him "shorty" anymore either—he was at least the same height or taller than the girls in school these days. The change had been in such miniscule increments that he hadn't noticed until Hinamori pointed it out.

It was the same kind of accumulation of small changes that lead him to gradually notice how long Hinamori's eyelashes were, how soft the glow on her cheeks seemed, and how there seemed to be stars in her eyes, burning in mute modesty from somewhere inside. Slowly, as if drawn by the light her irises provided, he leaned in closer towards her.

"Maybe…maybe you'll be taller than me…by the time we go to high school…together." Her voice trailed off in a soft whisper, as if a part of her was also aware of the ethereal moment between them.

The colors faded into black, leaving no traces of a light show ever having existed. Unused to the darkness he paused, perhaps only a few centimeters from her lips.

"The fireworks, they stopped." She said, her head tilting upward in observance.

He pulled away and looked up as well; the sky was pitch black again.

* * *

That night beneath the fireworks was the closest he had ever gotten to her. The trees of the countryside town he had slowly begun to recognize as home in his heart changed; green leaves melted into amber, then fell to the ground to be replaced by silver linings of snow, which in turn was replaced by tiny buds of infant flowers. Somewhere far, far in the back of his mind, he knew that time was flowing. But he believed that it flowed in a circle, in which mornings would consist of running out of the house with unfinished toast in his mouth after having Hinamori call out underneath his bedroom window that they were going to be late; daytimes in after school clubs would guarantee being able look up from the soccer field and faintly see her profile tilted thoughtfully downwards towards a book in the library window; evenings would always mean walking past the river, holding his school bag and practice gear under one arm while grinning at his neighbor's attempt to dribble a ball as she talked about everyday things.

In that sense, middle school graduation didn't mean much to him. He watched female classmates wipe tears from the corners of their eyes while Ise Nanao made her final speech and didn't understand their maudlin behavior. High school would be the same—to him, it was a matter of taking a longer walk (which mean waking up earlier, or having to run faster in order to make the bell) and a larger building.

"Toushiro-kun, congratulations on graduating!" Hinamori came up to him after the ceremony, amidst the swarm of photo-taking sessions outside of the building.

"Yeah. You too." He gave a grin back.

He knew how he felt towards her, and had a hunch that she probably did too. There were times when the beating in his chest would quicken—but he never knew when to expect it to happen. It occurred randomly during the most trivial things, such as when snow flakes in the winter were sprinkled over her hair in a certain way or when the clouds reflected in her eyes seemed especially white.

He was used to it—and most of the time he just enjoyed being with her in a calm, serene way. Since they saw each other everyday, he felt no rush. He had always been under the impression that what was between him and Hinamori was like the pieces of the puzzle they had worked on during elementary school lunches—everything would eventually fall into place over time and create a picturesque scene.

"Ne, my family's calling me, so I have to go. But I'll see you tomorrow, right? At the ice cream shop?"

"Yeah, sure." He watched her wave and disappear into the crowd. Walking back to his parents by their car, he entered the vehicle and sat in the back seat.

"Congratulations, Toushiro." His mother smiled and looked back at him. "Are you happy about graduating?"

"My son's going to be a high school student. I think we should go and celebrate. What are you in the mood for? _Takoyaki_? _Soba_?" His father suggested at the wheel, "It's up to you, Toushiro. There's more news for the family tonight too."

But he already knew. He had known the moment he looked at the rear view mirror and met his father's eyes, catching a glimpse of apology before the pair of eyes at the driver's seat looked away.

He knew what was happening—it was a scene all-too familiar, one that he had watched play out around him more than five times. Yet he could not bear to uproot the hope out of him, so he felt compelled to check the back of the van.

Something inside him hollowed when he saw the stack of packaged moving boxes.

* * *

**Kakigori- Shaved ice flavored with syrup and condensed milk. Kind of like a different take on a snow cone.**

**Tanzaku- A stall that sells strips to put your wishes on during Tanabata**

**Kinchaku- a drawstring bag**

**Geta- a traditional shoe that is a mix between a clog and flip flop (those shoes you see everyone wear whenever there are festival scenes in an anime)**

**Takoyaki- a Japanese snack that looks kind of like Dango, except it's savory and has octopus in it**

**Soba—A type of Japanese thin noodle**

**Hi everyone! Just thought I'd get the definitions out of the way first. I'm sorry that it's been a while since I last updated! Life just refuses to let me take a break. I've also been through an emotional rollercoaster for the past two days due to some… turn of events. It led me to an existential crisis and I did end up writing a lot, but personal stuff that was mainly just for myself to let out. **

**But anyways, I'm starting to feel much better and I'm definitely ready to start writing more! Plus, it's summer, so more time to work on this! **

**Thanks so much for reading! And I love all your input, so please keep it up! **


	5. Chapter 5

_April 18__th_

_Dear Toushiro-kun,_

_Hello! How are you? Do you like Okayama-shi? I'll bet it's really, really big, right? I've always lived in Yoshino-cho, so I can't imagine what it's like to live in a city. But I was curious and picked up a book about Okayama-shi the other day from the library—the buildings are so tall and there are a lot of amazing things to do! So make sure to take pictures and touch a cloud for me, okay? _

_Have you started high school yet? We had our entrance ceremony this morning and I never could've imagined how many students there would be! When I first walked through the school gate, there was a whole crowd of sempai holding posters to get the first years to join their clubs. There were also a lot of people from different towns and districts in Nara. Actually, I was very nervous when I first walked into homeroom—when I looked at the lists on the billboard, I didn't see anyone I know. Your name was on the list for my class, Toushiro-kun—it was crossed out by a pen but I could still tell it was your name because part of the character was still there. There is an empty seat in one of the middle desks where you would've sat. I sit two seats away from that one, closer to the window where I can see the sports complex. The soccer field is completely green and lined brightly with white lines—you would've liked it, since you always complained about how there were dirt patches in the middle of the one in our old school. _

_You're going to play soccer in Okayama-shi, right? You might be able to meet our old soccer team players, because last year our high school soccer team made it to the first round of nationals. Maybe if they make it again this year, they could play your high school and see you again! I'm sure the new high school in Okayama-shi is very good, especially now that they have you on the team._

_As for me, I've joined the Literature Club. Not surprising, right? We started on a book right away, which I have in front of me right now in my room. It's called __**South of the Border, West of the Sun. **__It's okay—I still like the book our club read before Tanabata last year, __**The Princess Bride**__ the best. Ise Nanao-san told me that you know the book really well too; I didn't know you read those kinds of books! Actually, I didn't know that you and Ise-san were friends! She also asked me where you were. A lot of your soccer team mates did too. I thought you told them before leaving like you did with me over the phone. But that's okay, I told them where you are now and everyone misses you…_

_I've also joined the Baking Club; right now the sempai are teaching the first years all the basics, but hopefully I'll be able to bake the hakutou peach jelly bun we always eat. I wonder if I would be able to send some to you—do you think I can send food by mail?_

_I put a whole bunch of pictures of different places and things in the envelope. I was thinking, maybe if we send lots of pictures and really, really make sure to tell each other everything that happens, it'll be like you've never moved at all! Well, I guess that's not a good way to explain it. But I think what I'm trying to say is that it could be like I'm right in Okayama-shi with you and you're still here in Yoshino-cho with me. _

_I have to go eat dinner now; we still have a lot of vegetables your Oba-san gave us…Please write back soon!_

_ From,_

_ Momo_

* * *

_April 23rd_

_Dear Hinamori,_

_I'm okay, I guess. I've been to cities before, so Okayama-shi isn't really that special. The traffic is loud, the streets are crowded, and everywhere smells like smoke. I don't know why my parents decided to move here. They say the hospital here has better machines to help my Oba-san's illness, but the air here sucks—she'd be better off staying in Yoshino-cho. But since you sounded really excited about the city, I have a few pictures here too so you can see what it's kind of like. _

_The high school here is huge. There are a lot of people in my grade, but nobody in my class seems that interesting. I don't really know if I'm going to play soccer here because I watched the team practice and just didn't feel like being with them would be fun like it was back at home. _

_I've been to the library a lot recently though. You can probably see it in the pictures, but it's really big; you'd really like it, they have a lot of hard-bound, old-fashioned books you always are picky for. I was thinking about starting to read more often, but I haven't actually read the book you mentioned. Maybe I'll start it. By the way, don't mind anything Ise says about me. _

_There's also a picture of a cake shop in the envelope. There are lots of them around here. I thought about buying a strawberry shortcake for you, but my parents told me that sending food would require more money, so they didn't want me to do it. It's stupid, they'll spend thousands of yen to go to a crowded city but won't spend a few coins for an extra stamp. They think they know everything and think I'm just a kid, even though I'm already 15. Maybe I'll get a job, then I can earn my own money and spend it on whatever I want._

_I like your idea about telling each other a lot of details in our letters, but there really isn't anything good to talk about here. My family lives in an apartment now and my neighbor is in my class too. But she's really loud and yells all the time—I can hear her on the phone through the walls right now. _

_Anyways, class is starting soon again, so I have to go. My next class is math, so I guess that's okay since I think calculating matrices is pretty easy._

_ From,_

_ Toushiro_

* * *

_May 6th_

_Dear Toushiro-kun,_

_ I think the city looks very pretty! The shrine and the art museum are beautiful. Maybe someday, the teachers here will let us have a field trip there! Then we could meet up and you can take me to the library and all the sweet shops there to try out all the yummy cake! It would be really fun!_

_I don't know what matrices are…we've haven't gotten there yet in our mathematics class, but I'm sure they're complicated; you're just good at math, Toushiro-kun. Math is the most difficult subject for me, and without you to help me after school now, it's even harder. That's the reason why I couldn't write to you as fast; we had a math test the other day and I had to study a lot for it. Luckily, Vorarlberna Yukio-san helped me. He transferred here from Germany and filled in the seat that was supposed to be yours. In return, I told him I would help him in Japanese. He scowls a lot, but maybe he's just shy like me in a way. I wonder if we can become friends…_

_I really hope I can find people to walk home with and sit with at lunch. Toushiro-kun, I wish you could be here to tell me what I'm doing wrong. Every one is very nice to me—the sempai in my clubs explain how the school works and my classmates say good morning—but I don't have anyone to call a friend. Yamada-kun is still in this school, but his parents made him join the kendo club and now he is too busy practicing all the time. Toushiro-kun, you probably don't have a problem like this; I'm sure you have a lot of nice friends already, don't you?_

_It's getting darker earlier here and tomorrow's still a school day, so I should probably start writing Japanese notes for Vorarlberna-san. Ne, Toushiro-kun, sometimes I wish I could write every second to you so that it doesn't feel like you're that far. But that's silly isn't it? Because no matter how much I write, my words would still take at least three days to get to you, and your words would take three days to get back to me, and by then, thousands of seconds of our lives are lost to share. But I shouldn't sound so depressing! I'll try my best! I promise! Bye!_

_ From,_

_ Momo_

_ May 22nd_

* * *

_Dear Hinamori,_

_Don't worry about making friends. I'm sure you'll make some soon enough because you're a really great person. And if no one tries to make friends with you, so be it, because you're probably just too good for most of them anyway. If you ever feel like you need to talk about anything, you can always write about it in our letters, I don't mind. You can even call if you'd like; I don't care if my parents say it costs more to pay for the telephone when the call is long-distance. _

_I'll be able to pay for it because I got a job last week. I work as a paperboy for a region of neighborhoods in the city; I have to wake up a lot earlier in the morning now, but I get paid, so I don't mind as much._

_For some reason, the mail company took a lot longer—I think it was because of the really big storm that happened here a few days ago. It's also my fault in a way; I'm still getting used to my new schedule. I fall asleep a lot during lunch and right after school. But I'm getting used to it, and I will write back whenever I can, as soon as possible now; you can count on it. _

_ From,_

_ Toushiro_

* * *

_June 30th_

_Dear Toushiro-kun,_

_ Guess what? A really amazing thing happened this month: I think made a new friend! Her name is Tsugumiya Ururu-chan! She is in the Baking Club with me; we became friends while preparing for the school Culture Festival. Our club wanted to do a café, so the two of us were in charge of creating original recipes for sweets. For weeks after school, we tried a whole bunch of different combinations of ingredients and ended up with a very yummy menu—a lot of people complimented us! The days during the Culture Festival was even more fun because I got to do a whole bunch of things with Ururu-chan, like being waitresses. I have a picture of us in here so you can see!_

_I'm really, really sorry it took me so long to write back! I didn't expect that the Culture Festival would take so much of my time! So please don't be mad at me! Since it's over now, I'll have more time to write to you again. Ne, Toushiro-kun, I used to think that high school wasn't as fun as middle school, but I think I've changed my mind because I really like the festivals here! Don't you like them too? What's the Culture Festival like at your school?_

_I have to go soon; Ururu-chan and I are going to the tea shop!_

_ From,_

_ Momo_

* * *

_July 11_

_Dear Hinamori,_

_It looks like you had a lot of fun at the festival and I'm glad you're getting along with everyone over there. We don't have Culture Festivals here because of a student body riot that happened years ago. Some students went too far and skipped class to protest. Hirako said that he got involved in the movement and was expelled with a few other guys, which is why he's a year older than the rest of the third years. I guess the school administration is stricter than most now because of that incident. Our school has a few dances and day trips, but nothing bigger than that. I guess that if I really wanted to go to a Culture Festival, I could visit another high school nearby. _

_I'm not mad at you, don't worry. High school is really busy for me too. There's a kendo tournament coming up, so I don't get home until 7 in the evening. And then there are first semester exams too. You have those too, right? I wish for the best of luck for you with math._

_By the way, I don't remember there being a tea shop in Yoshino-cho—did we ever go there?_

_ From,_

_ Toushiro_

* * *

_July 24_

_Dear Toushiro-kun_

_That's too bad about your school not having festivals—they're really fun! It's definitely worth a train ride to another town or city to see! Now that I think about it, I probably should've taken a few more pictures…there was so much more to it than just the café picture I sent you. Maybe I could ask Vorarlberna-kun, he has a phone that he takes a lot of pictures with. His family owns a technology company, so he gets really new and fancy stuff. Could you imagine being able to have your own portable phone? _

_You never told me that you joined the kendo team! Good luck on the tournament! Or is it already too late…? Yamada-kun went to one this weekend in the Chugoku region—that's the region Okayama is in, isn't it? Did you guys go to the same one? He said that he thought he saw someone that looked like you, but he wasn't sure. And is the Hirako-sempai you mentioned a friend from the kendo team?_

_And also, I don't think we've been to the tea shop together because it's new; it opened a month after you left. _

_Summer vacation has started already here—I'm really excited because I was invited to a hot springs trip with the Literature Club! What about you, Toushiro-kun? Do you have any plans for the summer? And thank you for your wishes! The math exam was actually very easy! Ever since Vorarlberna-kun started teaching me, I've actually been getting really good at the subject!_

_ From,_

_ Momo._

* * *

_August 8__th_

_Dear Hinamori,_

_ The tournament did already happen by the time I read your letter, but thank you for wishing me good luck; I got pretty far in the competition. I don't think I saw Yamada there. We might have crossed paths, but I didn't recognize him. His appearance might have changed a bit. You might not have noticed because you see him often, but little changes build up into big ones when you don't see someone for a long time. I think I look a bit different too. I haven't measured myself in a while, but I just realized at a doctor's appointment the other day that I've grown 4 cm over this past month. _

_By the way, I did go to another school festival before summer started. I went with a few of my kendo team mates. It was pretty fun. We didn't have to ride a train though—things are different in the city; there are a lot of high schools in one city since the population is large. A lot of people actually are really up to date with the technology stuff here too. A few of my classmates have cell phones now. They're really expensive though, so no one in my family can afford one._

_ From, _

_ Toushiro_

* * *

_August 15__th_

_Dear Toushiro-kun,_

_You're right about the changes; it never occurred to me that everyone has grown up—it's been half a year already since we've seen each other. I wonder—in another half year, or year, or two years from now, will we look like strangers to each other? To tell you the truth, it makes me really sad and scared. I used to think that I knew the most about you. But I didn't even know that you're taller than me now. I don't even know what you look like at this moment._

_I think we should start sending more pictures again. I sent a picture of myself so that you know what I look like right now. I wonder; do I look different to you?_

_Ne, Toushiro-kun, Tanabata was a few days ago. I watched the fireworks with Ururu-chan and Vorarlberna-kun—they were pretty, but not as pretty as the ones last year that we watched together. Ne, Toushiro-kun, I really miss you. We used to be able to talk everyday after school. But four months have gone by and we've only written around ten letters to each other. Remember the __**Princess Bride**__ book I really love? I wish that everyone could be like Westley and Buttercup. I wish that people be very far away from each other for a very long time and still be able to meet again with the same feelings that they shared before they left each other. But—it can happen, right? I'm sure someday we'll be able to see each other in person, right?_

_ From,_

_ Momo._

* * *

When he read the letter in bed, he realized that he didn't even remember that book until she mentioned it. In fact, it took him ten, panicked minutes of tossing through jumbled, year-old memories. Even after he had recalled about the book, the feeling of subtle fright kept him awake. As he tossed and turned underneath the covers and finally settled for staring at the ceiling, unavoidable thoughts haunted him.

He had always been confident in his memory. When his dad drove past the sign that indicated that they had officially left Yoshino-cho, he had sworn that he would never forget anything about the town where he and Hinamori grew up together.

But if he had almost forgotten the book he tried to use to ask Hinamori to the festival—how could he be sure that he wasn't missing anything else? He couldn't trust himself anymore. The more he thought about it, the blurrier every image he had of that night under the fireworks became. What was the color of the first firework in the sky? Which stand did they go to first? Did she wear any ornaments in her hair? And the afternoon before that, didn't he talk to Ise about some message?

The message.

He abruptly sat up. Never mind the fact that the alarm clock on his night stand glared 2:15 AM, he needed to find that book; because he couldn't remember the words

It wasn't that he didn't get the general idea of what he wrote. But as he clumsily searched through the dust underneath his bed, yanked open each one of his cabinets, and tossed each book off his shelf, he felt as if the memories of the festival were fading from him, as if time were slipping between his fingers and taking everything he treasured with it. And time would keep stealing the smiles and conversations they shared, in cruelly unnoticeable increments, day by day until he would be left with nothing at all, completely ignorant of his immense loss.

He didn't want that. He wanted to keep every memory of her, of him, of them locked. Forever lucid.

Finding the book jammed underneath the cardboard boxes in his closet was the most tremendous relief he had ever felt. His eyes devoured each word. He read each sentence twice. Then he read the entire message thrice. Then another time…and another…until dawn intruded the room and his eyes burned so much that the year-old, ink handwriting started to spread from his silent tears.

* * *

**Surprise surprise! Update on a Thursday! This is mostly spurred by my guilt for leaving you guys hanging for quite a few weeks. So I hope you all forgive me! There was end-of-high-school-forever kind of stuff and then I went off on vacation...**

**But anyways, Happy 4th of July to all my readers from the U.S.! And Happy Belated Canada Day to those who are Canadian; for part of my vacation my family and I went to Vancouver...it happened to be Canada Day, which I didn't know existed...but now that I think about it, it makes sense that other countries would have days dedicated to the date of their founding...that was pretty stupid of me.**

**Thanks for reading! And in the spirit of the epistolary form of this chapter:**

**P.S. I like reviews.**


	6. Chapter 6

_December 20__th_

_Dear Toushiro-kun,_

_Happy Birthday! Can you believe it? You're 16 now! What presents have you gotten? Are you having a party? Guess what? It's snowing right now here in Nara, and a lot too! From my window, it looks like sparkles are falling outside. I just tried taking a picture outside of all the snow. I put the picture here but it's not very good because I was shivering. It's very cold here. But it's weird in a way. Remember when Yoshino-cho had its biggest blizzard in history? We were ten and we played outside all night; we laid in the snow making angels and even got lost in the storm when it was past our bedtime—but I don't remember it being so cold back then. All I can remember is how much fun I had._

_I sent you a present. Surprise! I baked matcha cupcakes with amanatto in them for you! That's your favorite, right? Anyways; Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday! I hope all your wishes come true (oh, but remember not to give away what you wish for when you blow out the candles like you did for your 11__th__ birthday)!_

_ From,_

_ Momo_

The green tea cake was crumbly and stale; the polka-dotted baking cups somewhat worn. It probably would've tasted nice if he hadn't received the package with the letter on January 10th, three weeks after his birthday. It would've tasted delicious straight out of the oven, or even the next day, if they were still going to the same school and he could still bike over to her house at night just to talk.

But he ate them—all three of the dry cupcakes. As he looked at the empty cupcake liners, he was sure that his stomach would pay the price of eating food that had gone through weeks inside a musty delivery truck. He willed himself to like them. The _amanatto_ combined with the frosting left a sweet aftertaste on his tongue, a kind of taste that he remembered used to light his eyes up more than the candles on his birthday cake.

Now it just tasted too sweet.

He wondered exactly when he had lost the boy he used to be. Where did he go? In biology class, he learned that humans lose nearly half a million skin cells each day. Maybe that's how people changed over time, shedding little pieces of themselves into the air until they found themselves a new person.

At least he was still stubborn. Even still, time had made him mature enough to realize that he was fighting a lost battle. No matter how much he read the message on the back of the _Princess Bride_, the thought of her kept slipping from his mind. That's what hurt about finding her letters in the mailbox. He would go on for days, his mind occupied with kendo, exams, new friends…accustomed to his new life until the neat curls and curves of her handwriting punctured something deep inside of him all over again, causing all the memories he had forgotten to spill out and drown him in renewed loneliness.

He had finished the _Princess Bride_, partially in attempt to dig between the lines and perhaps find more of the seconds underneath the fireworks they had shared, or maybe hear the bell tone of her laugh when he fell off the tree that summer day. In all honesty, he felt no closer to her after reading her favorite book. If anything, it brought to light just how short their mail exchanges were becoming.

Perhaps Hinamori could feel the distance in their handwriting as well. Had she noticed that their promise to tell each other every detail of their lives was fading? That neither of them could keep up with the rate at which time was pulling them apart? Her letters weren't enough to imagine life back in Yoshino-cho. She had friends he didn't know. Exams she didn't speak of. Jokes and laughter she had no time to share. He was sure his letters were not truly reaching her either.

Their words were falling short, like a ball bobbing in the river in between two children who played catch on opposite banks and could do nothing else but hope.

He wondered if people could really be like Buttercup and Westley from the fairy tale, or Orihime and Hikoboshi from the Tanabata legend. He wondered if everyday people like him and Hinamori could retain the same feelings for each other forever. He wondered if one day, he and Hinamori would stop hoping, if all the lunchtimes in the library and the watermelon eating and the fireworks they shared would dissipate into meaningless dust.

It scared him. So much so that he regretted not having seen her in person before he left Yoshino-cho. If he hadn't been so scared to say goodbye. If he had just said how much she meant to him…

Perhaps that would've made a difference.

But he still clung onto happily ever afters and wanted to believe in fate. And it was with that desperation that he wrote at the end of his letter to her:

_Hey, Hinamori—let's meet again at Tanabata this year._

* * *

_June 2__nd_

_Dear Toushiro-kun,_

_ These past two weeks have been pretty normal for me. Our literature club has started a new book and the baking club is running a fundraiser. I can't remember anything else really important; Vorarlberna-kun talked back at a teacher the other day and it was really funny…but it's kind of hard to explain the joke. Anyways, it's been busy like always, and I wish I could have more time to write to you. But if I take the time to write more, then more days will pass by, and we'll be even more behind on each other's lives. I wish I could have a cell phone…maybe my parents will get me one for my birthday…_

_On the bright side, there's only a little bit over a month (35 days to be exact!) before we get to see each other again! Have you planned out your trip completely yet? Maybe if I ask my parents, you can stay at my house. Then we can have more time to talk and catch up with each other! I'm really excited…35 days seems too long!_

_ From,_

_ Momo_

* * *

_June 15__th_

_Dear Hinamori,_

_ I can't wait to see you either. I'm still saving some money to pay for a train ride to Yoshino-cho. My parents don't know about this, because if they did, they would say that it's too much money. That's all they seem to care about these days. They are always away from home to work, and if they are home they are too busy arguing over the bills for having Oba-san stay in the hospital. They don't tell me anything, but I think we're in financial trouble_

_Hey, Hinamori, I want to move back. I don't want to stay in Okayama-shi anymore. When I buy a ticket, I want to buy a one-way ticket. I'm sure I can live on my own; I'm 16 and I can find a job over there. I'm sure I'll be much happier in Yoshino-cho than I am here. _

_ From,_

_ Toushiro._

* * *

_June 20__st_

_Dear Toushiro-kun,_

_When I read that you're planning to stay here again, I couldn't stop smiling for the whole day. My parents asked me what happened, but don't worry, I haven't told them anything since this will be a secret between us. _

_I looked into apartments in our town this morning. I called an agent and pretended to be 18. He told me that there are a lot of really cheap apartments in town, so if you find a job here, it won't be a problem! That's right—I just realized; when you move here we'll be attending the same school again! We can go to the Culture Festival together and everything!_

_ From,_

_ Momo._

* * *

_June 27__th_

_Dear Hinamori,_

_ I bought my ticket today. I have to change lines at three stations: Shin-Osaka, Tennouji, and Yamato-Kamiichi. I'm leaving at 3 in the afternoon and it'll take around 4 hours, just in time for the Tanabata festival. I told my parents that I'll be at a kendo tournament for the weekend, so they won't suspect anything for a while since they never bother checking up with me anyway. _

_I'm just as happy as you are about this, Hinamori. Let's watch the fireworks together again with just the two of us soon._

_ From, _

_ Toushiro._

* * *

_July 3__rd_

_Dear Toushiro-kun._

_ I hope this letter reaches you in time! This is just a quick letter but I have good news! My parents really did get me a cell phone for my birthday! Anyways, we can talk more once we meet but I just wanted to give you my phone number so that you can call me if anything happens! It's 81-7473-2245._

_ See you soon! I can't believe it, we're going to be able to see each other everyday again! _

_ From,_

_ Momo_

* * *

He looked at her last letter, noticing how atypically uneven her handwriting seemed, as if she could hardly contain her excitement when she had wrote it. Sitting at a desk with the light coral stationary underneath a lamplight, moving her right hand eagerly with that pink pen with a strawberry eraser top…he could picture her.

But after tonight, he wouldn't have to do any picturing anymore.

Jamming the folded letter into his pocket, he zipped up his travel bag after one last check for any important items he was missing…some clothes, his toothbrush, fifteen boxes of Pocky, the copy of _The Princess Bride_, and his savings from work, which he kept in his wallet.

Truth be told, he would've earned enough money to buy his tickets months ago, if his mother didn't take a twenty dollar bill once every other week, sometimes for groceries, other times for gas money. She knew where he hid his wallet—the lowest drawer of his desk, underneath his pencil case—and would slip into his room early morning to find it, thinking that he was obliviously asleep. She never admitted to it. And he never confronted her about it. Something told him that if he did, both he and his parents would lose something dear; he would no longer be the five year old who sat wholly dependent on his father's shoulders, believing in his parent's strong, tall build as he tried to catch snowflakes in his tongue.

Yet as he walked down the hallway that lead to the front door, his footsteps echoing throughout the constantly empty home, he realized that missing from his wallet this time was not a few dollars, but his ticket.

"Toushiro. What's this?"

He stiffened at the sound of his mother's terse tone; he had not expected anyone to be home this early in the afternoon.

"Mine."

"You bought a ticket to Yoshino-shi behind my back?"

The way she had her hand on one hip, and the other waving the ticket as if it were a trivial scrap of paper caused the veins in his hands to pulse. It was as if she was actually shocked—even if she and his father were never home in the first place. He coiled his fingers into a fist, trying to maintain a cool voice, "It's my money. I can do what I want with it."

"What are you going to do there alone? How do you plan on getting back?"

"I'm not." He replied brusquely.

"What?"

"I'm not coming back."

"Don't be ridiculous, Toushiro. You can't go. Be reasonable."

He stubbornly clenched his jaw, "I'm going."

"No, you're not." Her voice started to rise.

"Yes, I am." He argued, matching the increase in volume. "Give me the ticket back."

"How are you going to support yourself? Where are you going to live?"

"I'm 16! I'm old enough!"

"Toushiro, listen to me—

"No! Give it back!" He glared at her with the icy eyes he inherited.

"I don't get it. You've never been like this before. You've always been a good son. What's happened to you?"

"I hate it here! Don't you get it? I always have! The only reason why you never notice is because you and Oto-san are never here to ask! It's always been like this! Nobody cares what _I _want!"

"Don't be selfish, Toushiro!" She hissed, "You know why your Oto-san and I do what we do. Oba-san needs the medication and surgery. Be mature."

"I'm sick of it!" His voice cracked like fire as he yelled, "I'm sick of you stealing my money all the time! I'm sick of losing all my friends! I'm sick of moving! It's my life! You can't control it!"

"Toushi—

Her anger was interrupted by the ring of her cell phone. She paused to answer, the ticket still in her hand as he remained frozen in a determined glower.

"Hello? Yes, speaking. Yes….yes…oh my God." She covered her mouth in worry before shutting the phone. As he expected from experiences of her leaving the dinner table or forgetting to pick him up from school due to a call, she said, "We'll finish this conversation later."

And with that she hurried out the door.

The ticket was left on the tabletop. Roughly brushing away the watery heat that stung the corner of his eyes, he snatched it and left.

* * *

The evening was colder than what he had expected. He looked up at the sky; the stars outnumbered the number of people at the sparsely populated train station, their pin-point white transcended distance and pricked his skin, sending shivers throughout his body.

He looked over to the station clock with a tired, blue-gray glance. After an hour of fuming on the train, all that remained was ashes in his stomach, a left-over, smoky exhaustion. Now he was waiting, yet again; this time at Tennouji Station, where the train to Yamato-Kamiichi was running behind schedule. He tapped his fingers against his knees, ate a stick of Pocky, tapped out some more, then ate another stick.

He told himself that soon, the wait alone would be over. That the next time he walked out the sliding train doors, heard the monotone announcer's voice repeated voice would be the last time. He imagined what it would be like. At first, he would be among a crowd of strangers—apathetic, passing by him, as always. But then he would find her standing among them. Her hands would be clasped behind her back as she called out his name. He would greet her, maybe get a hug from her. They would talk. She would walk beside him with that typical bounce in her step, her shoulders shrugged ever so slightly as she tilted her head in the cheery yet attentive manner. Outside the station, the fireworks would start—the brown in her eyes would have red little blossoms, then bright blue buds. Then he would tell her.

He would tell her how much he cared about her, everything about her; from her smile to the way she bit her lower lip when she was confused or the arc of her eyelashes when she laughed. He clung onto that self-promise, in hopes that it was his chance at a form of stability or better yet, a fairy tale eternity.

But the train was now half an hour late.

At one moment, he was tempted to get up and walk the rest of the way on his own feet. But even he was reasonable enough to know that such a thing would be impossible. So he flipped through his wallet, trying to calculate how much cab fare was. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours.

It just seemed like everything was against them being together again—and that was reality.

"Toushiro."

He looked up and found the sight of his mother after a long car drive, her mascara smudged, eyes damp.

"It's Oba-san. Toushiro:

Oba-san passed away."

* * *

She watched the first firework burst in a sparkling blue-green, a color that reminded her of his eyes. Although she had been standing at the station for hours, and the people on the last train of the day had already dispersed, she refused to sit. She wanted to make sure she would be standing when he came. So instead, she leaned against the pole and continued to watch the light show, feeling the cool summer air against her arms, the absence by her side.

Alone and in the dark, her heart whispered to keep waiting, all while the tear that trickled down her cheek reflected the glimmer of the fireworks and broken naivety.

* * *

**Hello there! Sorry for the 1 week break, but thanks for reading! Please leave reviews if you can :)**


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